


Memory of Light

by cognomen



Series: Cognomen's List of Things that Aren't Snakes [7]
Category: Final Fantasy XV, Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Eos exists in the star wars universe I guess?, M/M, Star Wars crossover, force sensitive kingsglaive, lategame canon, still set in the lost 10 years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-25 23:23:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17734634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cognomen/pseuds/cognomen
Summary: When the Empire comes, it slides out onto the planet by way of treachery, the promises of power that align one emperor’s thirst with another’s.February Ficlet Challenge, Day 8 - Crossover (with the next item on your list)





	Memory of Light

When the Empire comes, it slides out onto the planet by way of treachery, the promises of power that align one emperor’s thirst with another’s. There are whispers that Iedolas has leaned to the dark side since his ascendancy; that his efforts have been to drag the planet down into the dark side as part of a bargain with the Empire that put him in power in the first place. Why the whole planet has been plunged into darkness as a result is anyone’s guess; perhaps creating a haven for the Sith, birthing them from such a place of hostility.

One thing Gladio can say; since the Empire overthrew Insomnia and installed a system-wide governor, even Iedolas has suffered in the fading of the light.

“I didn’t expect ‘dark side’ to be so literal,” he confesses to Ignis as they settle together in one of the few islands of light that electricity can hold up in this new world. Ignis turns a gaze that’s half-void toward Gladio, but he hasn’t held Gladio’s lack of consideration against him before. 

“The universe has a badly flawed sense of humor,” Ignis agrees.

“I wish Noct were here,” Gladio says, letting his voice descend into a displeased growl.

“Given the state of things, he’s safer in carbonite,” Ignis mutters in answer. He reaches out, catching his hand into Gladio’s hood and giving it a tug to change his direction before he starts moving off. “It’s what holds as all as obedient Imperial citizens, and our job to be shining examples to the masses. There’s something growing over here.”

Gladio is tired from a day clearing wickedly strong monsters close to the camp, but he knows that Ignis’ burned out eyes have only strengthened his connection to the Force. He doesn’t envy it. Ignis paid a lot in the standoff, fighting to protect Noctis, to save a city and an ideal that couldn’t be  _ saved _ , just preserved. Held onto in the hearts of survivors, if anyone could survive this. “You shouldn’t do that Jedi stuff where someone might see.”

“No one’s here but you,” Ignis points out. He reaches down into the black soot that layers the ground now, brushing streaks of it aside to reveal a barely green and growing plant, struggling feebly up toward the artificial lights overhead.

“It’s—a plant,” Gladio wonders.

“Almost,” Ignis agrees. “I don’t think it’s fully realized that yet. Hard to remember when there’s so much light and none of it is the sun.”

“ _ That _ ,” Gladio points out. “ _ That _ Jedi shit. If they realize you’re Force Sensitive, they’ll take you away like they did Prompto.”

“I like to think they’d hedge their bets and take both of us at that point. Find a pot.”

“A pot?”

“This plant won’t make it out here, and it’s good ghysal greens. I want to bring it into the grow light.”

“That’s for food,” Gladio reminds, exasperated.

“They’ll make a fine salad.”

Gladio peers down at the pair of anemic, half-wilted and yellowing leaves. “It’s not half a mouthful.”

“Get a pot, Gladiolus.” It’s not often Ignis plays his team mom card  anymore, but it’s a warm feeling, like a visit back to the old days when they were all together—before the world changed.

Gladio doesn’t like to leave Ignis alone at the edge of the darkness, but he does. Ignis hates to be treated carefully, even with his injuries. He digs through their belongings in the one room at the outpost they can afford to share until he comes up with a tin can, devoid of it’s original foodstuffs and now holding an assortment of potentially useful knickknacks. It’s the best he can manage.

He dumps the contents on Ignis’ cutting board, and the years have been enough to teach him the basics of plant husbandry—drainage. He digs a nail out of the pile of contents from the can and pokes three holes in the bottom of it. He has to be careful not to crush the whole thing. Funny how little all his strength means against anything that matters like the darkness and Empire. While they were happy, he thinks as he punches the last hole, he hadn’t much thought about the balance. He and the Kingsglaive have the Force, but they weren’t Jedi. It’s what saved them, when the Empire came. Some of them. 

Downstairs, Gladio calls out ahead so he doesn’t startle Ignis when he returns. “All I could find was an old tin can, Iggy. We’ll have to trade for a real pot if you want one…”

Ignis doesn’t answer. Gladio finds the plant, but no sign of his friend. Maybe he was impatient and went to find a pot himself. Gladio settles down on his knees and digs in the oily, soot-saturated soil until he has the plant  gently free of it, then digs deeper for clean dirt to plant it in.

He carries it upstairs alone, and tries to feel the light in his heart as he knows this darkness forged plant must; there, in absence of all evidence.


End file.
